


Remember the Rose Garden

by ElizabethWinters



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:44:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7571128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethWinters/pseuds/ElizabethWinters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An elderly David is sorting out clothes with his home help's assistance when he comes across a yellow tie and this triggers memories of when he was PM and how he and Nick fell in love. David has a moment where he's lucid and recognizes that his home help is actually Nick himself.<br/>Warning: Trigger warning for the effects of Alzheimer's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember the Rose Garden

They're clearing out a cupboard, moving clothes David doesn't recognise and placing them in bags to be taken to a place David can't remember the name of, though he's sure he's been told, more than once. The man who helps smiles at David as he hands him an armful of suits, instructing David to put them on a chair so they can be sorted. 

‘Where are they going?’ David asks, it's the fifth time but he can't remember the first. 

‘To a charity shop,’ is the answer, patient and with no hint it's been said just minutes earlier. 

‘Why?’ 

‘They don't fit any more, we've bought you some new ones.’ 

New clothes. David doesn't remember that, frowns and feels frustrated he's forgotten. These days memories don't seem to have the traction they once had, and David feels like a lot of his life is passing unnoticed, like a fog has lodged itself in his brain, concealing all but the smallest fragments of his existence. He places the clothes on top of the untidy pile and turns back, but instead of handing him some more, the helper puts his hand on David's shoulder and squeezes gently. 

‘I'll make us some tea,’ the helper says. 

David agrees with a nod. Did he ask for tea? 

The feeling of missing everything, of being here but not really here makes David feel helpless and frightened. He's grateful for the presence of his helper, the kind fellow with brown hair who reminds him to eat and to take care of himself. David isn't sure of his name, but he's always there, an omnipresent guardian against David's forgetfulness. Somehow David finds it reassuring, though he can't say why. 

When the man leaves the room David roots around in the cupboard, pulling out clothes and piling them on the chair with the rest. They are making room; new clothes, clothes that fit - most of these haven't for some time, though how long exactly David doesn't know. 

When he has emptied the wardrobe David turns and sees a tie on the floor, fallen from one of the hangers without his noticing. He picks it up and looks at it. Is it his? 

David runs his hand over it and walks to the bed, sitting down on the edge and looking down at the tie he holds. It's familiar, important to him for some unknown reason, something about it evokes a sense of security, a feeling of- of- 

Whatever it is, the yellow strip of silk sets his mind on a path of rare clarity, memories springing from the depths, long forgotten but now remembered. He'd once been someone very important, but this tie does not belong to him, it belongs to, belongs to- 

_Nick._

The name comes from nowhere and David lets out a small sob. He remembers Nick, but the recollection is hazy; a name without a person, a feeling without a face. David runs the tie through his fingers, a little strip of sunshine, just as Nick had been. 

They'd loved each other. 

Somehow. 

It's all very disjointed, a series of images broken and jumbled. He'd worked with Nick, and there, wherever there was, they had fallen in love. It had cost them some unimaginable something, David cannot place what but knows it was great. He is still sitting on the edge of the bed, tie in hand, when the ever present helper comes back. 

‘David? Everything all right?’ 

David looks up but can't explain to this other the feeling of despair the tie has provoked. He remembers Nick, he can recall Nick holding him and whispering they would get through some unnamed catastrophe, can even remember the smell of Nick's aftershave, sharp and woody, but he can't remember Nick's face. 

‘I found his tie,’ David says quietly, and cries, tears dripping silently onto the front of his shirt. ‘I can't remember what he looks like.’ 

The helper comes to David's side and sits down, wraps one arm around David's shoulder; familiar, always there, reassuring. 

‘It's okay,’ he tells David. ‘I'm here.’ 

Turning, David buries himself in the comfort of the other's presence, the unspoken, unwavering support of a man whose name is also lost to David. The helper soothes him, stroking his back and shushing gently in his ear. Through his hazy and almost entirely uncertain thoughts, David knows the man at his side has held him like this before, more than once, and he can tell by the roughness of the other's voice that something about this situation upsets his helper. David puts his head on the man's shoulder and breathes, fights against the skirting darkness that threatens to swallow his lucidity and return him to the place where memories have no more substance than air. 

The sharp, woody scent of his helper's aftershave tickles David's nostrils, and with flaring brilliance the name on David's lips has a face, one right there with him. 

‘Nick?’ David asks, looking at the face of the man who owns the yellow tie. 

‘Yes,’ Nick smiles sadly. 

Questions cram themselves into David's mind; how long has it been since I remembered you last? How long have I been like this? How much does it hurt to look after someone who doesn't even remember who you are? 

None are really needed. David can see from the shimmering wateriness of Nick's grey gaze that it has been a long time since he's been recognised for who he is instead of the nameless helper always at David's side. 

‘I love you,’ David gasps out, wanting to tell Nick while he still remembers who Nick is, while he still knows it is true. 

‘I know you do.’ Nick strokes David's face with one hand, pulls him close until their foreheads are touching. ‘I love you too.’ 

Though he knows he'll forget, David savours the words, the closeness and the realness of these few moments of clarity, holds Nick and holds on to the memory while he can. 

‘I won't remember this,’ David sobs apologetically, wrapping Nick in his arms and holding tight, hoping against hope that he can keep himself from slipping away again. 

‘It's all right,’ Nick says in his ear. ‘I'll remember for both of us.’ 


End file.
